


By Your Side

by Professor SS19 (ProfessorSS19)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart, So Does Albus Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorSS19/pseuds/Professor%20SS19
Summary: Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, the Hospital Wing, a difficult night that gives way to a hopeful morning. AU, set during the OOTP timeline.  Hurt-comfort and father-son relationship.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome - I publish elsewhere, under the same pen name, I have just been bitten by the writing muse bug again and have read many a wonderful fiction on this site, so I wanted to share here too. 
> 
> A little comforting piece for these strange times, I hope you enjoy. ~ SS19

**By Your Side**

It had been a difficult night. That was the only reason he would allow for the feeling of intense heaviness in every limb, the only explanation he would consider for the sheer effort it took to raise his arms, bend his elbows, rest them on the sides of the chair and lean his chin on his interlinked fingers. 

The only justifiable cause of his eyes feeling dry and sticky and raw.

A difficult night.

Severus exhaled slowly through his mouth, regarding the still figure on the bed before him, mostly tucked under plain why sheets. The slightest movement of those blankets, rise and fall, indicated life and Severus watched that rhythm for a moment that stretched far beyond a simple cursory glance of utility and assessment.

Albus Dumbledore was alive. But it had been close. Too close. Sacrifices had been made and the consequences far too great for him to consider in this minute. There would be time for discussion and strategising and regrouping. For now, he needed stillness. He needed reflection and he needed to…appreciate. He reached out one hand and moved some of Albus’ errant hair back to a more orderly fashion, a mirror of the gesture Severus himself had once found patronising and now found reassuring in its familiarity and demonstration of being noticed. How many times had he returned from the Dark Lord in various broken piles of limbs and injuries and still Albus had found the time to brush the hair back from his face?

Even in the near dark of this secluded area of the Hospital Wing, Severus could still see Albus’ attended to yet evident wounds. His skills with potions could undo internal damage and sustain life, but they could not immediately heal the external signs. The bruises and jagged cuts lined the visible hands and wizened face and though Severus wanted to look beyond them to the mentor, father figure and extraordinarily brilliant wizard beneath, instead his gaze was drawn to the various shades of red and purple and black. Mortality at its most cruel.

How close had it been? Had he not intervened…. How much had Albus had left? To duel with the Dark Lord was folly enough; but no one, not even Severus himself, had visualised the actual possibility that Albus would duel with the Dark Lord….and lose. The very notion had seemed impossible. Albus was pure magic, its very essence was his very soul, the culmination of decades of dedicated study. The idea that he could be defeated - when the stories emerged tomorrow - Severus shook his head, self scolding. The Ministry was responsible for managing newspapers, not Severus. No. He was needed….

Indecision twisted his stomach. Where was he needed, now? The Dark Lord would have seen him; though Potter had provided a worthy distraction, the fact that Severus had been at the Ministry at all and had done straight to the fallen Headmaster to save him… there was no conceivable possibility that the Dark Lord did not know. Even if Severus pleaded that it was to maintain his cover, he would be insulting the Dark Lord if he thought that would be believed. He would no longer be able to spy for Albus, and that had been his highest priority for fifteen years - what was he, now? Would Albus cast him out? Severus wanted to believe that was foolish for him to think, he could still teach after all, and Hogwarts was safe, but the lingering unease remained. He shifted position in his chair, now leaning on the bed, willing Albus to wake. He needed guidance and… he scowled, internally, at such pathetic dependency, so foolish in war…but he needed comfort, too. He needed to know the Headmaster would be fine. To lose him would…

The smallest and subtlest sound caught his attention, breaking what he would have finished that hanging thought with and he found himself almost relieved. “Poppy?” He hazarded a logical suggestion but received no confirmation. “Show yourself.” He straightened his back, standing over the bed, protective even here in his sanctuary.

Reluctantly, the teenager moved into view. Despite himself, Severus knew he visibly relaxed. “Potter. I had forgotten that the school rules do not apply to you.” His sarcasm hopefully disguised any nerves and, deeper still, he hoped it channeled what was unbidden and unnecessary jealousy. Of course Potter would be concerned about the Headmaster. The boy looked drained, exhausted and worried and Severus had this sudden and wildly uncharacteristic need to reassure him, which he attributed to a misplaced manifestation of what he needed right now too. “The Headmaster will be fine, Potter. He needs rest and time.”

Potter came closer. Severus watched him consider Albus. “What of Black?”

Green eyes flicked towards him, “Remus says he will be fine.”

Silence slid between them. Severus became very interested in the total lack of any pattern on the blankets of the bed to avoid looking any further at Potter.

And then. “You came to the Ministry.”

“Observant as always, Potter.” Sometimes, in his weakest moments, Severus wished his automatic response was not sarcasm but he reasoned that it would require undoing a lifetime’s worth of habit. He mitigated it slightly with, “I was - I came once I had alerted the Order to your very obvious and foolish plan.”

Potter nodded. “You saved him.” The short sentences belied confusion - not disbelief, as Severus had expected - just confusion. He sought to correct, ever the professor, “The Order intervening saved him.”

“No. I saw you!” Insolent boy. “You went to him and you deflected a curse and you rescued him.” Potter’s tone was certain now and empowered with vehemence. He paused. “Voldemort knows now, doesn’t he. About you.”

Severus ignored the ominous clenching in his left forearm at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name. “Perhaps.” The boy seemed to be contemplating this information and on another day, in a different time, perhaps Severus would have given him credit for how he was beginning to mature and think. Instead, he felt he needed to offer something. “Potter, I have seen you run into many situations where the odds are greatly against you and you clearly have had no plan or forethought, just because someone you care for is at risk. I know you believe you are a special case, but try to accept that you are not the only one who would do so.”

The stare between them now echoed many over the last five years, but it seemed now undermined by understanding and mutual acceptance. 

“Thank you,” Potter said finally. “I mean it. Thank you, Professor.”

Severus inclined his head in acknowledge, and Potter regarded the Headmaster for a moment more before turning to leave. “Mr. Potter?” Potter looked back and Severus held onto the moment for anticipation’s sake before, “Ten points from Gryffindor for being out of bed.”

The relief of that normality seemed tangible to them both before Potter slipped away and Severus returned his attention to the still sleeping Headmaster, although somewhere he sensed Albus was listening, “Be quiet.” He admonished in an intone, lowering himself back into his chair, “Arrogant old fool.” He shook his head, “Who is the fool now - charging into a situation with no forethought to rescue you.” He poked Albus’ hand with one finger, “You are rubbing off on me and I hate it, greater good and all that.” But still, his finger remained by Albus’ hand and, almost unconsciously, he traced the outline of a scratch on the soft skin before bringing it back along the vein to rest on a pale wrist. “Except…” He inhaled, and Albus’ light pulse fluttered back against his finger tip, the oh so gentle sensation seizing his chest with powerful emotion and for a moment constricting his own heart, burning behind his eyes and filling his head with undue sentiment. He counted Albus’ heartbeats before exhaling and finishing his sentence, “I knew exactly what I was doing, did I not?”

_He charged into the high ceilinged and ornate hall, all sense attuned to the moment to assess the environment and situation and danger. He saw Albus’ shielding charm waver under the Dark Lord’s onslaught of what appeared to be thousands of shards of black glass - saw the charm shatter - saw Albus fall and when the Dark Lord paused to enjoy the moment of promised victory mere moments away he moved with a shout of “No!” Two gazes turned upon him, one incredulous, the other fading. He placed himself between the Dark Lord and Albus and as the Dark Lord drew himself up to full height and towered more and more, higher and higher, above them he was surrounded by blood and a hand was tugging at his and when he glanced back there was a mass of exposed flesh and muscle and bone and just those brilliant blue eyes now glassy and lifeless and unseeing and when the monstrous Lord Voldemort aimed his wand he could only try and shield them both from the inevitable —_

He was suddenly and minutely aware of his fingers flexing but it did not seem to be of his own accord. Irritated, he opened his eyes and glared down at the movement. Albus was tapping his fingers against Severus’ in some sort of soothing and affectionate rhythm and when he looked toward Albus’ face he was rewarded with a tired but clearly warm gaze and a smile of greeting, “Good morning, Headmaster. Welcome back.”

The smile deepened before Albus gestured weakly to his throat. Severus understood instantly and conjured a small glass beaker with a gold trim and filled with unpalatably lukewarm water. “Be careful.” He murmured as Albus’ slightly trembling hand reached for it and then tipped it to his lips. Severus glanced away to allow Albus the moment of vulnerability, instead releasing the blankets from under the mattress and settling back into his chair as Albus finished the water, carefully placed the glass down, and sat up a little more, heavily supported by the pillows. “Good morning, Severus.”

They both watched each other until the awkward tension seemed to dissipate when Albus laughed suddenly and Severus could not help the small smile in return, “This situation is not amusing, Headmaster.”

“Most certainly not Severus, but I believe it does offer a little levity, does it not? Dawn is when the light returns - and I imagine it has followed a difficult night?”

“You were unconscious for most of it,” Severus returned, but still the smile remained with determined persistence, “How do you feel?”

“Tired, and I assume soothed by your many wonderful concoctions, my boy.” Albus sat a little straighter and his expression sobered, “And you?” He waited when Severus did not reply straight away, patient as always. Severus contemplated. “Relieved and uneasy.” He settled on being honest and those were the two strongest emotions. Albus observed him a moment longer, “You saved my life, Severus.”

“No.” Severus shook his head, “I saved you from being wounded more than you already were.” He enjoyed Albus’ confused expression but also knew he would never accept that he had saved Albus, the thought was too unreal, too overwhelming to consider. He had done what he had needed to do, and would do it again, and again, and again. “The Order would not see you grievously harmed.”

Albus nodded, “Of course. That is definitely the outcome of you placing yourself between me and Tom’s most likely fatal final curse…you had no obligation to put yourself in that position, dear Severus.” He reached out for Severus’ hand, rubbing a thumb over the knuckles when the younger wizard acquiesced to the gesture, “But I am immensely grateful you did. Thank you.”

Severus’ cheeks felt hot. He stared down at Albus’ hand, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth before he caught himself. “Well, you know…it is very important you live…for the war…the war needs you.”

“Ah, I see! Am I just a pawn in your war, my boy?”

“No!” Severus’ head sprung up and he saw Albus amused and the teasing smile and Severus glared at him from under his lashes which caused Albus to laugh, and then cough. Severus was up instantly, one hand on Albus’ chest and the other helping him to lean forward slightly. When his breathing settled, Albus looked up at Severus with affection. “Give you a pair of half moon spectacles Severus and sometimes you look just like me.” Severus adjusted the blankets and perched on the side of the bed, “How lucky for me. But speaking of pawns…this pawn has exhausted his use to you, Headmaster.” He fidgeted with his fingers, “The Dark Lord saw me. He knows. I wonder if part of him suspected, this whole time.” There was dirt under one of his fingernails. “I cannot spy for you now, I am sorry.”

A hand on his elbow, “We have had this discussion many a time, Severus - you have never been a pawn. You have not also suddenly become useless to me, my boy. That would never happen.” The light touch became more of a grasp, “Look at me, Severus, look at me and listen.” He waited for Severus to follow the instruction. “You will stay here, in Hogwarts, where it is safe.”

“On one condition.”

“Anything, Severus.”

“That when the time comes and you face him again…I want to be by your side.”

Weighty silence, hanging by a thread from the syllables of his quiet admission. He felt like he should explain further, how he had arrived at such a decision, but would that weaken the intensity of what he was asking? He knew it was remarkably sentimental for him, but it was different now. He could make this own choice, because he had shown his cards and aligned himself with Albus and he liked how it felt. He wanted to stand at Albus’ side at the end of all things and protect him, draw their wands together. And if he was to die, he wanted to die there, not sabotaged in the shadows. But now they had both been quiet too long, and he wanted an answer. “May I have that honour…Albus?” He sought Albus’ eyes and thought that they seemed to glisten, but maybe that was just the blossoming morning light as the sun continued to rise.

“Severus…I cannot ask that of you.” 

“I concur. Which is why you are not asking; I am telling you, that is what I want to do.” Severus shifted position to rest his hand on Albus’ upper arm. “Please allow me this.”

Albus had not moved, “Only if you tell me why, Severus.”

“Because… I choose it. I choose to stand with you. Publicly. For all to see. I am tired of my loyalties being questioned, my commitment to you doubted.” He smoothed a crease in the remarkably dull undergarment Albus was wearing, “I want people to know I chose this side. Your side.” His voice remained steady, measured, composed. His Headmaster, on the other hand, seemed splintered by emotion, “I do not deserve such a decision - not after what I have asked you to do.”

Severus suddenly realised the parallels of this situation to so many conversations between him and Albus. Maybe he was more like his mentor now than he had thought possible and any other time he would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that image. But this was not the time. This was the time to show what he had learned, really, from being Albus Dumbledore’s wayward ward for all these years. “It is not a matter of deserving, Headmaster; your viewpoint that something is either earned or deserved hinders you. You make choices; I make mine as a result. You choose to stand for that which is good and just; I choose to follow that. Just as I chose to turn from the Dark Lord. For what will be the final time as we will not have this discussion again, Albus, I chose to spy for you. I did it to help you - you may have asked me, but I own my decision to do so. I believe in you. You give me something to fight for. You gave me something to choose. So let me stand beside you. No matter what the cost, no matter what the consequences.” His hand had moved, seemingly without his conscious bidding, to rest on Albus’ chest and he only noticed when Albus echoed the gesture by holding Severus’ fingers, tight. “You could die, Severus.”

Severus shrugged with nonchalance, “I might. You might too. Or…we might win.”

Albus’ expression darkened, “He bested me, easily.”

“You were unprepared. You were alone. Outnumbered. That will not be the case again.” Severus felt the slightest smile play on his lips and it was not one of amusement or resentment; this time, he realised, it was one of pride. “Remember you are the most extraordinary wizard of our generation, Headmaster. Several generations, in fact. One setback, a failure does not make.” Their fingers entangled. Albus finally smiled too. “It would be my privilege to face Lord Voldemort with you by my side, Severus. A great honour.”

Severus hesitated a moment. He knew what he wanted to say, now, just doing so was going to take very great strength. But maybe he could find that strength - in the steady trust Albus had given him, stability as he made his way back to the light and now something worth fighting for. He straightened his posture, expression set. “We…” He was _choosing_ to do this. To hell with the consequences. “We will defeat _Voldemort_. Together.” 

He waited for the sudden pain or the Apparition of darkness itself or lightning to strike him down or the floor to open up and swallow him - but there was nothing. Just the Headmaster in this secluded part of the Hospital Wing, and even then he seemed stronger now, the constant constant. “A name, Severus. Nothing more.” He stroked Severus’ cheek gently, “I will make a Gryffindor of you yet.” He moved away from the pillow, “Come here.” He hugged Severus tightly and Severus returned the embrace with genuine affection, gaining that much sought comfort, finally. He wanted to remain there, eyes closed, safe and protected. Albus rubbed a gentle pattern on his back, before squeezing his arm, “Go and rest, you need sleep. I will be fine.”

It took Severus time to respond to the gentle request, “Can I stay here?”

Albus pulled back, “It would be very uncomfortable for you - that chair is not meant for sleeping in - and I would argue neither are these beds…”

“I don’t mind. I would like to.”

“Ah I see, you are choosing to, dear one?” Albus raised both hands in defeat, “How could I deny that. You are _choosing_ to stay by my side?”

Light words. Heavy meaning. Years of friendship brought them together.

Severus nodded, just once. “By your side.”


End file.
